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Every-so-often I consider asking Davina. Then the idea goes away. My mother spends most of her time on the Outer Banks, squatting in my beach house. I concurrently flit back-and-forth between the condo and the house I was raised in depending on Holly’s work schedule.
If I was a smarter man, I’d choose one permanent spot to live in, but coming up on three months of dating, my moving into Laurel’s home is tacky. Even if Holly and I had been together longer, I couldn’t let her and Bhodi stay at Rex’s. There are too many fucked up memories there. Now, if I were an intelligent man, I’d boot Davina from my place and finally be able to suggest bringing them there for the weekend like I’ve wanted to since the days got longer and school let out.
My therapist alluded to me avoiding conflict when I’m happy. I hate the douche for being right. But why ruin a great streak of luck by dredging up the past? Am I supposed to pop every party balloon because one of them lost its helium and is a grounder?
Letting my mother’s ridiculous assumption, that I need to know about the guy she screwed nearly three decades ago, get under my skin isn’t going to help me move forward. If anything, I’ll wind up acting like a jerk to my employees and letting that negativity seep into my personal life. No way am I fucking this up. Not when things with Holly and Bhodi are as good as they are.
I slide an incidental bag of mine that’s made the trip inside next to Holly’s door. I knew she’d be at the club already, but I hadn’t anticipated missing her when I saw the bright space empty without her in it. The clutter of everything she owns cramming every nook and cranny aside, the bedcovers are pulled up. The journals she writes in are piled in neat stack on the nightstand and the clothes draped over the shell chair look intentional.
Bhodi and I head back out to the car to get the last of his stuff. Laurel’s sedan pulls up in the spot beside my SUV. She gets out and walks toward us with a sack of groceries on one hip and Emory on the other.
“How was camping?” she asks.
We trail Laurel back towards the condo. At the steps, Emory wiggles to get down. I scoop the groceries from Laurel so she doesn’t drop them while her daughter slides down her leg.
“The campground was awesome, Aunt Laurel!” Bhodi’s on a high from the trip.
“That’s great! I picked up ground beef for hamburgers. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.” Bhodi twists in a mock faint.
“Okay, then. Hop in the shower and by the time you’ve washed all the smoke and grime off of you, I’ll have the grill fired up.”
The kid looks at me to save him.
“What did I tell you?” I raise a brow, taking Laurel’s side.
“Stay for dinner, please?” He leans in, giving me a half-hug the way I’ve seen him do to Holly.
“Won’t take much more than you scrubbing up to twist my arm. Laurel makes a mean burger.”
“Mean like this?” Emory growls and pretends to flex her hulking arms like a bodybuilder.
“Yes!” The brown grocery sack crinkles as I mimic her posture and the hulking sound she’s making.
“No, mean like this.” Bhodi roars, getting in on the act.
We all turn into grizzlies and then both kids wind up attached to my leg and stepping on my shoes as I walk around the living room. Forgetting the fact that middle school isn’t too far off for Bhodi, they’re cute together.
Laurel goes out back to grill our supper. It’s informal, to say the least. Just beefy burgers with all the fixings, no sides but she’s promised dessert.
I put the groceries where I think they belong and take kid duty. Emory’s brought a big box of crayons to the kitchen table and we color together while we wait.
Through the window, I spy Laurel tapping away on her phone. She looks at me under her lashes, almost as if she doesn’t want me to see what she’s up to. Every time she puts her cell down, it goes off again. After the last flight of her fingers, it’s silent for a beat before mine goes off.
Holly: Everything go okay?
So that’s who she was texting. I should’ve been smart enough to figure out Laurel would let her sister know I was still here. Honestly, I appreciate it.
Me: It did. He’s going to want to tell you about it, so I’m not spoiling it.
I hit send and start typing again.
Me: Hope you don’t mind me staying for dinner. Bhod asked and I sorta didn’t want to say no. I figured I’d stick around to see you when you got home?
Those damn little bubbles stay on my screen way too long waiting on her reply.
Holly: Wow—you really don’t have chill do you?
